


What's a Punchy Siren to Do

by shellalana



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Drabble, Headcanon, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-01-05 13:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18367286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellalana/pseuds/shellalana
Summary: A mixture of drabbles of Amara's backstory and first meetings with the other Vault Hunters.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> A little drabble I wrote for Borderlands 3 because I'm really loving Amara's design. This idea came to me spur of the moment when I was wondering what your backstory was like. By no means is this canon and info will likely make this wrong, but I still wanted to exercise a little bit of her character.  
> A backstory: Amara never regretted or feared her Siren powers, despite her mother's warnings.

_Control. Keep it under wraps so they don’t know._

Her mother’s words whispered in her ears. To be a Siren meant death. To be a Siren meant the crazies chased you out of town and uttered your name as a curse. To be a Siren...

Amara had never felt so liberated. Despite the tears and screams of her mother, despite the copious layers of bandages she wrapped around the girl’s arm, Amara had never felt stronger. Never felt more alive.

_Never freer **.**_

_Control_. She had plenty of it. She’d mastered her powers without her mother’s knowledge, waiting until she was fast asleep, and then slipping out in the middle of the night to go punch walls and ruin things people didn’t care about. She would run. She would lift. She would pick fist fights once she was old enough to venture alone during the day, and make lots of money when the betting events started. She would make it big, she would get her mother out of her, make her proud. And then-

_... oh._

She returned one day to a ruined home. Her house on fire, charred to a crisp, her mother nowhere in sight. Swollen-faced bullies she’d faced the other day stood in a semi-circle around her, bats and pipes clenched between ash-covered fists. Their faces said it all. They’d been waiting for her, wanted to see the look on her face at seeing her home destroyed, her mother dead. They wanted to see the tears and hear her screams. They wanted satisfaction.

Oh, what a mistake that turned out to be.

Face after face she ruined, her knuckles bloodied and swollen by the time she was done. All with a smile on her face. She had no remorse for her actions, no need to grab them by the shirts and ask why. She knew. Her mother had had to pay for her sins, and now she was making them pay for theirs.

She breathed a sigh of relief once she was done, the exertion more than she realized. There was satisfaction... and emptiness.

No matter. No one would ever consider her a mistake or a curse ever again. The one with the power had all the control, and she was determined to grip her destiny by the shoulders and wrest it out of Fate’s hands.


	2. Shuttle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amara meets the other fated three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people asked for a second chapter about Amara's first reaction to the other VHers. I didn't want to dive too deep considering we still don't know a lot about them, but I figured I could still give them an interesting first meeting.

Amara couldn't help but stare at the other three who'd gotten on the shuttle with her. An interesting bunch, not people one would ever expect to see in one place at one time unless there was some kind of costume party going on.

The old dude with that thing on his face... he was the one who unnerved her the most. He was too quiet, too still, sitting in the corner with his arms folded over his chest. She honestly thought he was asleep until he raised his head to stare right back at her.

"I don't appreciate being treated like a dessert in a display case," he said quietly from across the small space between them. His accent was unique, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Refined yet trashy at the same time.

"Trust me, you're not any kind of snack worth staring at," she replied with rolled eyes. She was going to have to keep an eye on that one, before he started keeping an eye on her first.

The big one looked like they were covered in too many coats and blankets, and a smell rose from them that reminded her of a pet store. They seemed the most fidgety, gloved thumbs twiddling at a frantic pace. What they had to be nervous about, she didn't know nor did she want to ask. There was no guarantee that their nervous nature meant they were friendly.

"Hey. Big guy. Stop twitching. You're making me nervous." The white-haired guy barked over at them with an ounce of annoyance written on his features. The most expressive Amara had seen his face be this entire trip.

The walking hill of coats stopped and looked down at their hands, discovered what they'd been doing, and shoved them into their pockets.

Where they continued to fiddle, out of sight.

The old man groaned and rolled his head. He obviously didn't miss anything.

The last was the armoured woman over in the corner, smacking loudly on a thick wad of gum she'd had for a few hours. Instead of spitting out the whole thing, she'd add another piece, making the pink gloop larger and more wet. She nodded her head in rhythm to the music blaring from her earbuds and blew a ginormous bubble before the thing popped against her face. It smeared some of that black stuff, whatever it was, on her cheeks, as she worked her mouth to regather the gum back in.

It was easy to tell she was Vladof; it was written all over everything she was wearing, especially that tattoo she had on her hip. So she was a military girl. Not bad, but that meant she had discipline, a sense of following orders. Amara, on the other hand, lived only for herself. Orders were something to be ignored and fists were meant for punching, not holding guns.

She was pretty sure she could take her on in a fight.

"Whatcha listening to?" Amara called out.

Of course she couldn't hear her.

She waved wildly enough for a few minutes before finally catching her attention. Thankfully, she popped one of the earbuds out.

"Whatcha listening to?" she repeated.

"Mammoth Jackass," she replied in a heavy accent. Also one Amara couldn't pinpoint.

What the hell kind of band name was that?

"... are they any good?"

The woman shrugged before putting her earbud back in, drowning herself once more in that noise and effectively ending the conversation.

Amara sighed and folded her hands behind her head, waiting for this dumb trip to be over. So much for trying to make friends like her mother wanted.

"They're pretty good."

Amara turned, surprised to hear the quiet man reply. What was even more surprising that he'd heard of the band at all. The area between his eyebrows had smoothed out and there was something to his lips that made him look more approachable. Calling it a smile, however, would be a stretch of the truth.

"I mean, if you like that kind of music." And just like that, the amiable nature of his face vanished.

The jacketed individual seemed to have given up on their fiddling aimlessly and tapped their fingers against their thighs to the beat of the music. Even the guy with the white hair joined in, and Amara was sure she saw him lip-synching to the lyrics, as well as she could make them out from across the shuttle, blaring from a set of tinny earbuds.

But she joined in just the same, tapping her boot against the seat in front of her. Maybe she should look up this Mammoth Jackass on the ECHOnet once they finally landed.


	3. Brick House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brick waits for a shuttle to arrive, only to find an unexpected person in his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been my most favourite thing to write for Amara, and I honestly can't wait for her and Brick to meet in the game.

Brick hated greeting duty. Going out to the docks and waiting for a new shuttle to come in was the most boring shit Lilith made him do but he couldn’t deny that it was his turn. Mordecai had even taken the last two shifts for him because he’d bitched so much about not wanting to do it. But there was only so many times the hunter could cover for him.

Seven hours now and nothing. Either this shuttle was late or it had been shot out of the sky before getting close enough. That pissed him off even more because not knowing meant he had to wait another fifteen hours before nightfall. Fed up, he ditched the Technical and headed to the nearest bar to get a meal.

“The usual,” he barked. He’d frequented the place often enough that they knew his face, knew not to charge him the “tourist” cost for the meals and risk getting their faces punched in. He’d been here long enough to know when he was being taken advantage off.

“Running low on skag?” Brick dipped his soup into the watery bowl of stuff that was supposed to be stew. It looked and smelled pathetic.

“Runnin’ low on everything.” the cook replied with a shrug as he continued tending to the things on his grill. “Maybe we’re overhuntin’ ‘em this year.”

“You need someone to make a run for you?” Tossing the spoon aside, he took up the whole bowl and started putting it back. It was more water than stew, and those definitely weren’t vegetables he was crunching on. He knew better to not ask.

“When you got time, thanks. I know that Siren’s been keeping you busy...?” The chef lifted his head to peer out the window. At first, Brick wasn’t sure what had piqued his interest, but with just the two of them in the bar, it was easy to pick up the muffled blare of music from outside. What the heck?

“You got friends... I think.”

Brick slammed the half-empty bowl back down onto the counter and booked it back outside. If he’d missed the landing of a shuttle, Lilith would never let him live it down. The music, however, was coming from his own Technical... and there was someone inside.

“Hey.”

The silhouette raised something to their face and lowered it again. Brick paused, thinking it was someone toying with him, aiming a gun at him as a playful gesture. Too bad he didn’t play like that, which stoked his temper.

“ _Hey_.”

He tightened the knot on his bandanna and stormed over to the truck. The more he neared, the clearer the form became until he discovered a woman sitting inside, the seat leaned all the way back, and one of Mordecai’s hidden bottles cracked open and pressed to her lips.

“ ** _HEY_**!” he screamed over the music; it was only then that the woman even noticed him and snapped up to attention, switching off the radio.

Oh. Apparently, this car belonged to someone else. Whoops!

“Get out of my car!”

Amara raised her hands and did as she was asked, backing out of the open door as slowly as possible to show she meant no harm. This guy was  _big_ , bigger than her. This would definitely be an interesting tussle under different circumstances, i.e. not being jumped on.

“What the hell’s that?”

Amara blinked and looked to the bottle that was still in her hands.

“This... is vodka. It warms my heart.” She cracked a smile, knowing full well that wasn’t what he was asking.

“That’s Mordy’s stash, put it back!”

“This Mordy or whoever shouldn’t have left it where a girl can find it.” She made her way around the Technical, her hands still up, until she stood a few feet from him. “You wanna start over?”

She didn’t wait for an answer before she chucked the contents of the bottle right into Brick’s face. She didn’t wait for him to respond or defend himself, using the moment to drive her fist right into his stomach. A surprised grunt escaped him as he hurried to scrape the booze out of his eyes, his leg shifting back to keep his balance.

Amara blinked up in surprise. That’s  _definitely_  wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

The large brawler chuckled deep and low as he wiped at his face with his shirt collar. It was almost feral, stuck somewhere between the growl of a lion and the cackle of a hyena.

“You messed with the wrong guy. Now, I’m not usually a fan of punching women in the face, but-”

Another strike to his chin took him by surprise. She was  _quick_ , quick and savage and daring. A few stars sprung into his vision and Brick knew,  _he knew_ , that this one was going to be interesting.

Once he shook the stars away, he readied his stance and touched at his ECHO.

“Hey, Lil? Shuttle’s landed and someone’s decided to get punchy.”

Lilith’s heavy sigh sounded annoyed more than angry.

“Try to keep ‘em in one piece, I guess?”

“Oh, and she’s a Siren.” He thumbed at his nose, his eyes tracing the swirls down her arm.

Amara jumped at the sound of hands slapping the table coming from the ECHO device.

“Then don’t rough her up too much, Brick. We need all the help we can get.”

The ECHO cut out with a hiss of static as Brick returned his attention to the woman before him. A smile split his scar-cracked lip, making him look more vicious than he intended.

“Look like it’s your lucky day, uh... what do I call you?”

Amara blinked in surprise. Was it usual for this guy to get someone’s name before turning their face into bacon?

“Amara. Nice name, Brick.” He was definitely built like a house, she’d give him that much.

“How’d you-... oh, right. I’ll try not to hurt you  _too_ much.”

“Should say the same for you, big guy.”


	4. Firefly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith and Amara have a conversation about the future, along with a warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Steam Subject" is supposed to be the Pandoran version of "Hot Topic."

"Hey, killer. Heard the latest broadcast?" Lilith pulled up a chair and sat on it the wrong way around. Her arms across the back of it, she rested her chin on top, smirking at the taller, muscular Siren.

Amara lightly tossed the double-bagged bricks of eridium to one side - one of Lilith's requests - and perched herself on the corner of the nearest counter.

The Children of the Vault's broadcasts were hard to miss. They were on every station she turned to, even in the Runners. The only way to escape all that religious propaganda bullshit was to lock herself in a room with all the blinds closed and bury her head beneath a pillow. Luckily for her, she'd been too busy, killing bandits and what-not, to make out the exact words from the Twins. All she could remember was the annoying tones of their droning voices. Birthright this, followers that.

Amara gave Lilith an annoyed dismissive wave before depositing her gun on the counter for some maintenance. The damn safety had been sticking all week. She wouldn't have cared - _who needs safeties on Pandora?_ \- but Zane had been bitching for the better part of a week about it, to the point of getting on her nerves.

Lilith pursed her lips to one side, annoyed, and backhanded the Siren's elbow.

"This one was serious. They called you out."

Amara raised her head, blinked once. Then her lips parted in a wide smile. Her? _Little old her_? Her actions had finally caught their attention. It made her pride swell.

"I should be flattered."

"Yeah, I would be too, but that was before... you know." Lilith shrugged with the roll of her amber eyes.

Amara had heard the stories, of all the people the Crimson Raiders had lost, how some big-time maniac had kidnapped Lilith and turned her into a living battery. The impending addiction that came afterward... Save for those side effects, Amara would have indulged in some of that eridium if it meant her powers would be even stronger. Then no one, not even those Twins, would be able to stand in her way.

"So what are you going to do?"

Amara shrugged.

"Depends on what they said." She had no time to waste on useless threats. She had other matters on her mind at the moment.

"Says you should know better than to try and stop them. That if you got in their way, they know how to deal with you. That they can take away what makes you special."

Amara scoffed and rolled her eyes. Amara was Amara; there was nothing those two idiots could do to make her any less than she was... then she noticed Lilith's Siren markings flickering along with hers. As if they were trying to communicate.

Then an awful thought crossed her mind.

No, she was born with these, _born a Siren_. They would have to kill her first before... no, that just didn't make sense. She wasn't going to let those Steam Subject rejects take her birthright. She'd smash their faces in before that happened.

"I've seen the impossible become the possible, killer. I wouldn't put anything past them, _especially_ if they're making threats. Trust me when I say that you definitely want to watch your back. I don't have a magical bag of pixie dust to bring you back if they off you."

"Pixie... dust...?" Amara had never heard _that_ before. Maybe those withdrawal symptoms were starting to addle Lilith's mind.

"Yeah, from that book? Uh, Peter Pan? Mordecai lent it to me, said it was supposed to 'cheer me up' or some nonsense."

"What... does the pixie dust have to do with anything?" As much as she was glad for the explanation, it only made Amara more confused.

Lilith's cheeks flushed red and she averted her gaze.

"It's supposed to... bring you back from the dead, I think? Or..." She chewed worriedly on her lip. "Forget it, that was a bad analogy."

Lilith stood from her chair and gestured for Amara to follow. The taller Siren gave the bag of eridium another look before following. Perhaps Lilith's "pixie dust" was right there...

The redhead led her out to the balcony overlooking the Crimson Raiders' compound. Night had settled more quickly than Amara suspected, and the people were up and about getting drinks or taking care of the last of their daily work. It was peaceable, unlike the town on Pavali Amara had grown up in. Lilith was leaning against the railing, looking more tired now that she no longer needed to save face in front of the others.

"... look, I'm not going to tell you what to do with your powers. In fact, you should do whatever you feel's necessary to get the job done. But don't follow in my footsteps. That stuff..." she nodded back towards the almost-forgotten bag, "... always comes with a price. Ask yourself if you're willing to pay it." Lilith wrung her hands together as she stared out across the compound at absolutely nothing. She'd become more somber in the years she'd spend on this wretched planet; she only wished she'd become more responsible sooner. Then maybe...

A warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, almost familiar but not. Lilith didn't want to give into that delusion again.

"No need to worry," Amara replied. She could make no promises, not even to herself, about what she would do to end the Twins insane plan to conquer... well, everything. Whatever it took to get the job done...

"We have you watching our backs, after all."

A breathy chuckle escaped Lilith. Faith? In her? Look where that had gotten those who'd believed in her in the past. Maybe that faith was misplaced, maybe not, but she wasn't going to make the same mistakes again.

She patted the hand on her shoulder and turned around.

"I won't let you down, killer. Just as long as you don't."

"If we do, I'm sure it won't matter at any point. You'll have missed the chance to say 'I told you so'."

Lilith _laughed_ this time; it felt good, recalling the memory of what it was like to be _happy_.

"Get out of here." She gave Amara a playful shrug and returned to leaning against the railing. "Mordecai and Tina've got a job for you, and neither of them is good on patience."

As Lilith watched her go, an empty calmness seemed to wash over her. She couldn't put a name to it, couldn't be sure that it was a _good_ feeling or not, but she couldn't help but sense that everything was going to be alright.

 


End file.
